His Dearest
by Empress Vegah
Summary: Alfred, juggling with academics and internship and being the best of his batch, had remotely less time with Arthur. It went on for two months. Arthur decided to break up with him. Secret Santa gift for Darquecrystal!
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE:** His Dearest (Part 1, Chapter 1)  
><strong> GENRE:<strong> Romance/Angst  
><strong>PAIRING(S):<strong> USUK, some America + Belarus friendship (you'll see why)  
><strong>RATINGSWARNINGS:** T; OOCness (especially America)  
><strong>SUMMARY:<strong> Alfred, juggling with academics and internship and being the best of his batch, had remotely less time with Arthur. It went on for two months. Arthur decided to break up with him.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia; I am just a student nurse, and these ideas from Med School are what I gathered from the interns in the hospitals I serve. I'm sorry, I hope I did the prompt some justice!

* * *

><p><em>"Alfred!"<em>

_The person addressed turned towards the distant voice, a wide, genuine grin plastered on his face. He was waiting outside the restaurant that was decorated with Christmas lights and glitters, snow softly falling over him, but he didn't mind, because seeing his dearest person walking in a brisk manner, struggling not to slip but wanting to trek fast enough to reach him made his heart swell. He always wanted to enter any establishment together with him, no matter how cruel or kind the weather outside was. Despite the chill the weather brought, despite the fact that he almost couldn't feel his fingertips because he forgot to bring those mittens his dearest knitted for him, he felt warm when he saw his boyfriend wrapped in a scarf Arthur made himself, pink in the cheeks and nose slightly red from the cold, hair slightly wet from the snow._

_Arthur was so adorable._

_Alfred found himself meeting Arthur halfway, wrapping his arms around the shorter man's waist and spun him around, not minding that they were in public. Alfred heard Arthur sputtering about the cake being distorted if he won't stop, but he couldn't help himself. He missed his Brit so much! He nuzzled against the warm clothed chest of Arthur before setting him down and stole a quick smooch before leading his blushing Arthur inside the restaurant. Alfred was entitled to do some PDAs because it's Christmas and it's the season of love and happiness!_

_Looking at Arthur, red in the face due to a mixture of the weather and embarrassment, their entwined fingers warming each other's hand, those emerald eyes that no shade can equal in beauty, looking at him; everything, everything made Alfred very happy. Truly happy. He hoped this kind of happiness wasn't fleeting, wasn't temporary, that he could look back to this time after so many years with Arthur still by his side._

_This happiness was his Christmas wish._

* * *

><p>April 4, 2011<p>

Alfred woke up with a groan; the flat bed and starchy sheets were not agreeing with the muscles on his back. The Intern's Quarters were dim, with the early signs of dawn breaking. His supine body still didn't want to rise. Despite the constant ringing of his cellphone, his protesting muscles twinge in response and he tried to raise his arms over his eyes. He succeeded, but in an aching victory. The dull pain he felt was not only from his extremities, but also from the sternal area of his chest. It throbbed over the remnants of his dream, his memory, leaving him hollowed and empty yet full of regret. The ache of his muscles and of his chest continued to taunt him, making him curl sideways in a fetal position, finding comfort amongst the blanket he managed to wrap around himself.

He didn't want to admit it, but everything ache.

His dream of old memories, of times when he was happy, hurt.

Alfred was becoming tired of his routine life, of the pressures in Med School, of wanting to be the best intern of his batch, of the agony his heartbreak was giving him. Though he wanted to be a great doctor someday, all of his dreams seemed futile now that Arthur Kirkland, his dear, sweet Arthur, was not beside him, with him, anymore. And even though four weeks had passed, time didn't seem to ease the pain he felt. It still throbbed and ached and it was still making him feel hollow and empty and heavy at the same time. Time could heal wounds except his.

Even though Alfred was slowly dying inside, he yielded to Arthur's request.

To break up with him.

-USUK-

March 3, 4AM found Alfred F. Jones busy. Busy with the workload his very strict consultant emeritus gave him, busy with him juggling his internship and his academics. He was currently in his third year of Med School, and closer to his dream of becoming a great physician to help those people in need of medical service, but couldn't afford. He planned on specializing in Neurosurgery or in Cardiosurgery, depending on his performance. But what he wanted the most was the exhilarating feeling of treating patients of their illnesses, saving their lives, and limiting the mortality rate of his fellowmen. That was his ambition ever since he was young, and he knew that he'd carry that ambition until he grew old.

Despite the overbearing requirements and the very tiring internship that demands too much of his time and energy, the presence of his dearest in his life made everything more bearable. Arthur had always been with him for three years already, and they're together for one and a half. Alfred still felt giddy whenever he thought of their subtle flirtation and his intense courting until Arthur said yes, his face bright red. That memory never failed to make him smile.

Though now things were getting hard, due to his current year level. The Junior Year of Med School was the most death-inducing among all the four year levels. The mix of internship and academics, both demanding attention, energy and time, consumed Alfred to the core of his being. When he was not in school, attending lectures and taking examinations, he was in the hospital, performing minor surgeries and monitoring his clients while his clinical instructors were there to guide him, and all of these happen without the good old eight hours of sleep. Coffee was very vital for his survival in this medical/academic arena.

And yet, the dark caffeinated liquid could never compare to the motivation those emerald eyes gave him. Whenever he thought of Arthur, may it be a fond memory or his dearest's unique quirks, he always felt rejuvenated after thinking about him, and Alfred could carry on his tasks with a bounce in his step.

Med School really took away your social life, Alfred thought. He hadn't seen Arthur for almost two months, and it was driving him to the wall. He still sent texts of good mornings and good nights, but the demand of his school was too high, and he couldn't entertain long text message exchanges and even talk for long on the phone! It was just short phone calls just to hear Arthur's voice over the line, while walking to his next class. And it really was enough for him to keep going.

Besides, he knew Arthur always understood his situation.

Their Christmas was spent full of laughter and kisses and hugs and Alfred felt warm all over again when he recalled how they went to candlelit restaurants, ate cake in Arthur's couch, cuddled underneath the comforting blanket while sharing body heat. Arthur gave him a limited edition Superman comics, one he bought at an auction, and Alfred got him one of the 'best' unicorn plushy he ever saw, which earned him a smack on the head and a stuttering "T-thank you" from his boyfriend. The waking up in the morning light with the person you love was the most priceless experience Alfred ever encountered. It was their first time waking up together, and they didn't want to leave the bed to savor their intimate moment. They made breakfast together, making the meal edible enough for Alfred's taste buds.

Alfred made their Christmas so memorable to make up for his physical absence in the succeeding months. It was the start of his internship, and along with his lectures, was a total pain in the ass. And they couldn't be together during Valentine's Day due to the 48-hour intense duty plus a whooping 300 exam on the day of hearts. He sent Arthur a bouquet of red roses, a box of milk chocolate, and a note saying how much he missed him and how he was sorry he couldn't do anything more.

His life as a med student is definitely killing him but he could do everything as long as he would put his motivation and his dedication (and Arthur) into it.

He sent an early "Good morning, babe! xoxo" text to Arthur and pocketed his phone, preparing for another round of intense demands from both his clinical instructors and his patients in the morning and his lectures in the afternoon.

-USUK-

Later that afternoon, after another round of a very draining lecture (and a promise of having a 200-item exam, could his day get any worse), Alfred received a short text from Arthur, asking (demanding) him to have dinner with him at seven o'clock in a posh restaurant that Arthur particularly liked. Alfred internally went giddy with excitement and couldn't wait for the day to be over. Too bad he had to study later that night, Pharmacology wasn't really his strongest subject. He'd better get some study partner soon. He needed to ace this exam to maintain his status as one of the achievers (he liked the feeling of being filmed during operation, assisting the main surgeon, along with Natalya, his groupmate, for education purposes).

He went home after the class, changed into casual clothes, and brought some notes and a Pharma book with him. He strode to the meeting place, noticing that Arthur was already inside. He glanced at his watch and winced, 'Dang, it's already seven-fifteen.' Arthur would be totally mad for his tardiness. He pushed the door, and made a beeline towards their table. Sending a sheepish smile towards Arthur's frowning face, he sat down and placed his stuff on the other empty chair.

Arthur eyed him placing his notes on top of the chair, and something in his eyes flickered.

"We haven't seen each other for two months, and you're going to be late tonight?" Arthur remarked, disappointment evident in his voice. He was sitting stiffly on his chair, back not quite meeting the backrest, arms crossed. His accusing glare was directed to Alfred, and all the med student could do was grin shyly.

"Aw, c'mon Artie, I'm already here, aren't I?" He tried, wishing it'd alleviate a bit of Arthur's anger.

"Don't call me Artie!" Arthur continued to glare for a moment, drilling his angry emerald blaze into Alfred's sapphires, then the fire simmered into a small ember, until it died out. He sighed. "I know you're here already. Just… Don't be late the next time, if there's a next time soon." Arthur glanced down and gave a self-depreciating smile.

Alfred felt his heart quiver, a shudder unwanted ran up his spine. "Don't be like that, Artie!" He ignored the reprimand for the nickname, and made a motion of grabbing Arthur's hand on the edge of the table, but decided against it. "Don't be like that," he repeated. "Let's just enjoy our dinner like we should have moments ago. He began to flip the menu, discreetly looking at Arthur, whose head was still bent downwards, but has started to pick the menu.

They browsed through the menu in silence. It was slowly making Alfred on edge, and he felt he had done something so horribly wrong but he didn't know what it was or how to make up with the awkwardness that had started to creep into them. He wanted to break it. He wanted this dinner to be special and to last enough for another round of separation (due to his demanding Med Student life).

The first minutes of their meeting, and he was already failing spectacularly.

-USUK-

Alfred somehow managed to lift the atmosphere over the course of their dinner. He accomplished to make Arthur smile and that was all he ever wanted. Alfred paid for both of their meals, despite Arthur's stuttering protests. He grabbed his notes and rose to help his dearest out of the chair and lead him outside the restaurant, his hand holding the curve of Arthur's back.

Arthur's smile and the feel of his warm back against his hand, imprinted on his mind, was enough to give him another boost for the coming days of academic torture.

Speaking of academic torture…

"Artie, sorry to cut our evening so short, but I need to study for tomorrow's exam. It's about drugs for the Central Nervous System and you know me, I barely pass those," he gave him his puppy eyes and asked for some divine intervention Arthur would not flip over.

He saw Arthur frowned deeply and silently cringed. But then Arthur just gave yet another sigh, a though a slightly disappointed one, and nodded. Alfred was about to give him a very big hug and a sloppy kiss (he liked to give sloppy kisses) but then his phone rang and he had to answer that, it was a ringtone he allotted for his groupmates. He motioned to Arthur to excuse him for a moment, and answered his phone. Looking at the screen, his eyes widened slightly and he hurriedly pressed the talk button, and turned around.

"Natalya! Why d'ya call?" Alfred didn't see Arthur stiffen.

"Really? You're in Starbucks right now?" He didn't see Arthur fisting of the edge of his vest.

"That's great! Thank you so much for the offer! I'll be there right away!" Alfred didn't see the flash of hurt on Arthur's emerald eyes.

Alfred ended the call and turned back to Arthur, not noticing any changes in his boyfriend's stance and gave him a quick hug. "Bye Artie! See you sooner, I hope!" And Alfred ran towards his car, driving towards Starbucks where Natalya was.

-USUK-

Natalya Arlovskaya was already sipping her caramel frappuccino, reading the notes on top of her crossed legs when Alfred arrived. He grinned broadly at her, making his way towards her cubicle. He plopped down on the seat opposite of her, tossed his notes on the table, and took a deep breath. Natalya gave him a nod and continued to read.

"Man, Natalya," Alfred began, "Thanks a lot for calling me! I am seriously doomed if I don't get any study partner for tomorrow's exam!" He bestowed her one of the biggest smiles he could manage. Natalya looked up and gave him one of her utterly rare smiles and he instantly knew she was in a good mood.

"Hey, what made you give that oh-so very rare smile you got, that's like a rare pokemon!" Alfred joked. Even though everyone else thought Natalya was a creepy and scary girl for having such devoted fascination with surgery and blades (once he asked her why, and she replied, "I love it when they cut open the humans," and Alfred was quite disturbed for a moment) but she was a very good groupmate, responsible enough and dependable. Like right now. With studying Pharmacology.

Natalya actually managed to redden a bit. Alfred was quite surprised, Wow this is really something, he thought. "Big brother visited me today," she replied. Alfred whistled, "Woah, seriously? Ivan visited you? I thought he was hiding from you," he said, laughing at the second sentence, indicating that he was just teasing.

"Big brother's not hiding from me! Anyway, yes, he visited me today and gave me a new dress. I'm going to wear it tomorrow after getting it laundered," her cheeks were slightly tinged with pink when she responded. Alfred was happy for her, even though he slightly disliked that Ivan guy. Ivan Braginski was Natalya's stepbrother and was also Alfred's schoolmate in high school, and they had some sort of rivalry of being the best in everything they do. It was such a coincidence that he and Natalya ended up in the same Medical School. Ivan, according to Natalya, was currently tending their family business. Though at first Alfred was confused over Natalya's 'affection' for her older brother, he was slowly accepting it as norm without any question. He did know, during high school, that one of Ivan's fears was his sister, and Alfred concluded the 'fear' as Natalya. Despite her being the younger sister of his rival, he managed to get along together, became close friends, even!

"Wow, that's totally neat, Natalya," Alfred replied. He was feeling good because they both got to see their loved ones today! Nothing could bring him down! "Alright! Let's study!"

The first twenty minutes was spent reading their notes by themselves. Alfred reviewed and did his best to remember them. He glanced at Natalya, silently wanting to be like her, casually studying and not exerting any overt effort at all! He pouted and glanced back to his notes when his phone beeped. He mindlessly reached for it, and smiled when he read who it was from. Any text from Arthur surely must be good. He couldn't wait to read it.

_Alfred, Forgive me… But I think it's better if we're not together anymore._

Alfred, chuckling without humor, reread the text again, feeling his heart sped just a little bit fast. Eyes widening, he exited the message inbox, and opened it again to read it for the third time, not really believing what was written in the text.

When the meaning of the text finally drilled into Alfred's brain, he immediately stiffened, and felt his heart thudded in his chest, excruciatingly so, and the sounds inside the café ceased, and only the sound of his wristwatch, _tick-tock-tick-tock_, was heard, mocking him, while he kept on repeating Arthur's text over and over again in his head.

Natalya was even brought out from her concentration due to Alfred's awkward laugh. She raised her eyebrow, silently establishing eye contact with Alfred, who was now in his catatonic state, not saying anything. She furrowed her eyebrows, wondering what happened to him.

"Alfred?" No response.

Natalya decided to nudge his foot to get a reaction. And it was spontaneous.

Alfred jumped a mile, eyes zeroing on Natalya's face. Natalya noticed the wild look on his eyes, the slightly labored breathing, the tension on his muscles, the strong grip he had on his phone. Something was definitely wrong.

She stared at him, waiting for him to give her an answer for his bizarre behavior. It seemed like he was still debating something within, due to the conflict evident on his face. She prompted him again.

Alfred snapped out of his trance, and clumsily handed his notes towards Natalya's side. "I'm sorry Natalya, but I have something very important to attend," he said to her, his voice slightly shaking. Natalya just gave him a nod, and gathered his notes to arrange them. He spared her one last look before dashing outside Starbucks and speeding to his car, chest already aching and heavy with dread and confusion.

_What have I done wrong?_

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><p>Review if you like! :D<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**TITLE:** His Dearest (Part 1, Chapter 2)  
><strong>GENRE:<strong> Romance/Angst  
><strong>PAIRING(S):<strong> USUK, some America + Belarus friendship (you'll see why)  
><strong>RATINGSWARNINGS:** T; OOCness (especially America and Belarus)  
><strong>SUMMARY:<strong> Alfred, juggling with academics and internship and being the best of his batch, had remotely less time with Arthur. It went on for two months. Arthur decided to break up with him.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia; I am just a student nurse, and these ideas from Med School are what I gathered from the interns in the hospitals I serve. I'm sorry, I hope I did the prompt some justice!

Thank you so much for the reviews, alerts and favorites! I seriously wasn't expecting them, and they made me happy! I hope I won't disappoint you! :D

* * *

><p>Alfred ran the flights of stairs to reach Arthur's flat on the fifth floor. He was breathless and sweaty, his shirt creased and slightly wet, but he didn't pay any attention to them. He was anxious and afraid and confused and he didn't know what to do or what to say or what to believe. He fished for his car keys and stared for a moment at the green key, Arthur's key to his flat. He leant on the wall beside Arthur's door, looking, looking intently at the key, mind going on overdrive at the questions and feelings that overwhelm his heart and mind. But one thing he knew was that he wouldn't get any answers if he would just stand there.<p>

He braced himself for the inevitable, inserting the key and discreetly twisting the knob, opening the door as silently as he could. He felt his chest tighten more at the darkened room, but he could hear the achingly familiar sounds of sobbing, of _Arthur sobbing – _

He couldn't take it anymore and strode towards the cries that broke his heart each second, knowing full well where Arthur was. He made his steps light and unnoticeable, not wanting to alert Arthur of his presence, and turned around the corner to face the bedroom. The sobs were louder now, and he did not know what to expect, would it be better or worse but it was better to face it now.

He opened the door and saw that Arthur was curled on bed and crying and it was so heart-wrenching Alfred wanted to rush to him and hold him tight and comfort him and never let go –

But he didn't because Arthur had snapped alert, hastily wiping his tears away and suppressing his sobs and glaring at him in the most devastating way Alfred was frozen on his steps.

"What are you doing here?" even his voice was thick and broken and has no bite in it.

"Arthur," Alfred began, wanting to touch the crying blonde but he knew he couldn't, not yet. "I – what is the meaning of your text?" he asked, feeling so lost and overwhelmed by so many emotions. He wanted to make everything better. He would do whatever Arthur want, if it would make him better.

Arthur's tears were trying to leak from his eyes, but he was forcing them not to. He looked away.

Alfred was getting agitated, he wanted to hear Arthur's answer, of him saying that everything is all right and please don't mind the text and I love you – Alfred grabbed Arthur's shoulders, and with a frantic voice, he almost shouted, "Arthur! Please explain to me what happened, where did I go wrong, what did I do, what can I do – "

"It means what it means, Alfred!" Arthur screamed, upset tears now running from his emerald eyes and Alfred felt another wave of hurt wash over his body. "It means exactly as it is!"

The taller blonde faltered in his hold, while Arthur poured everything in his verbal tirade, "You don't remember me at all! You don't call that much anymore, we don't exchange long messages, you don't even email me! We haven't seen each other for two months, and when we do, you just leave to me to meet with that Natalya of yours –" He took a deep breath. Alfred was about to retort but Arthur cut him off. "Valentine's Day! We were supposed to celebrate it together as a couple! And where were you? You're too focused in your carrier that you forget about me!"

"Artie, it's not like – " Alfred tried again.

"No! It is like this, this is what I feel! If you can't even attend to your so-called boyfriend," Arthur choked up, but he continued, "Being preoccupied with your studies without even bothering to just meet with me even for ten minutes for the course of two months – two months, Alfred! – without even remembering me, then it's better, for you and for me, for the both of us, if you concentrate on your Med School without a boyfriend demanding for your time!" He squeezed his eyes shut and ducked his head, crying softly.

Alfred was at a loss. He didn't know whether to feel regret over his actions or to feel affronted that Arthur had doubted his love for him. He opted for the latter.

"I thought you understand Med School, Arthur!" Alfred practically raised his voice, tightening his grip on Arthur's arms and shook him. "I thought you understand how important this is for me! I thought we've already agreed on this!" he continued, frustrated with the whole situation, frustrated with Arthur, but mostly frustrated with himself. He wanted to shake the living daylights out of Arthur and at the same time he wanted to hold him close and snug and never let go.

"You said you'd understand, Arthur…" Alfred trailed off.

Arthur bristled, like he was practically insulted by the statement. "W-What do you – You think I didn't try? I tried! I tried my sodding best to understand you, you stupid medicine-obsessed git! I fucking tried! But you can't even understand what I bloody want, need, Alfred!" Tears were streaming from his eyes but the glare Alfred received could still make any other man cower in fear.

The emerald-eyed man sobbed, his breath shuddering and his voice breaking, "It's just a little bit of time from you, Alfred, to know that you still care…" Arthur furiously dried his tears as what he secretly feared the most was out in the open, and he wanted to hide from Alfred and curl underneath his blanket. He struggled and broke free from Alfred's hold, taking a few steps back, whispering _I love you_, then saying, "If you can't understand that, something as simple as that, because you've forgotten due to the complexity of what you're always facing, then it's better to call it quits!"

Arthur turned away and sank into his bed, pulling at the sheets and discreetly trying to bundle them up together on his lap. "Just leave, Alfred," he uttered in surrender. While he was stiff and ready to combat moments ago, he now looked deflated and vulnerable, gathering the sheets on his arms.

But Alfred wasn't over with all the complicated emotions trying to dominate each other inside him. He was left standing there, looking stricken and shocked and mouth hanging open. An internal debate of asking for forgiveness for something he didn't intentionally do or to keep his pride intact because, hey, he wasn't the one thinking ill about their relationship! He wasn't the one with the doubt planted in his heart! If they couldn't understand each other (and he so totally thought Arthur understood him, they talked about it before), they were better off with no commitment. If their love could be toppled down by just unfounded fears, then it's better he would just follow what Arthur suggested.

Even though Alfred vaguely knew he was rationalizing here, and he knew there was something important about what Arthur said, he opted to follow the second line of thinking. "Fine, if you want it that way, so be it!" Alfred exclaimed, and he stormed off the room, and off the flat, doing his best to ignore the clenching of his heart at the sound of Arthur's newly-formed sobs.

_And he previously thought nothing could ever bring him down._

-USUK-

Alfred, despite being a little carefree, was one of the best students in his batch. The hero in him was keeping him from doing anything that could jeopardize his academic and medical performance. It was helping him cope with any stressful situations he encountered previously, from an impromptu test to substituting another groupmate in assisting operations. The hero in Alfred motivated him to prepare beforehand, to keep his things as organized as he could (despite being messy himself), to become adaptable in any circumstance he found himself in, to save any living creature (human or animal) from untimely ruin.

That heroic tendency had been pretending that everything was fine whenever he was with his classmates, his patients, his professors, even with Natalya, to protect the recently unstable, broken ego.

He passed the Pharmacology examination, albeit not with the flying colors he was previously aiming. Natalya was concerned, he knew. She kept on staring at him ever since he showed his face the following day, and if he wasn't familiar with her and her quirks, he would be really intimidated. Despite that, Natalya was not a prying girl and he understood she was just waiting for him to talk.

He could talk about anything, anything at all, for the whole day, but he could never open up and talk about what he really felt.

He caught Natalya looking intently at him. She was in the other side of the hallway, head bowed while looking at her book, but her discreet eyes were boring at him, silently asking if he was okay. He internally sighed and silently appreciated her for the concern. It was indeed rare for her to worry, 'coz Natalya was as cool as ice. He casually walked towards her, and leaned on the wall beside her, hands on his pockets.

"Hey," he started, looking straight at the window outside, but was observing her in his peripheral vision.

Natalya was still reading the book. Faking, rather, for her eyes were just staring intently at the printed colored letters. The platinum blonde strands of hair were sticking to her face, an unusual occurrence. He was aware how stunning Natalya looked. She turned heads whenever she went, with the way she carried herself (very ladylike). But she also had that intimidating demeanor and a _little bit_ of harsh personality in her that totally scared people away. Except for him, of course.

Natalya abruptly snapped the book shut and turned to him, her icy blue orbs boring into him, and despite him not being scared of her (no he wasn't, nope), it made him straighten his posture up. She crossed her arms and gave off that _I'm waiting for you_ vibe that he really couldn't ignore. He cleared his throat.

"I'm okay," he offered, sending her a charming smile to support his statement.

"No you're not," she retorted without skipping a beat.

The hero in him wanted to prove her wrong, to say that he was _indeed okay_, and she was just overanalyzing things – But she was there when he received that text. One could deny subjective signs but never the objective ones. And they were aspiring to become physicians.

He breathed a loud sigh. "Natalya, I have a problem, but I'm doing fine. I can solve this by myself," he said softly, trying to give her a confident smile, hoping it was convincing enough. That was the most he could reveal to anyone. "Thanks for your concern, though." He stretched his arms and gave her shoulder a squeeze. He was grateful for a friend like her, really.

She frowned at him, her eyes travelling at the hand that was on her shoulder back to his face, and whispered, "Okay." Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. Natalya gazed back into his eyes and said, "I just want you to be all right. You're a valuable groupmate, after all. Especially during operations." She smiled her sinister smile and walked away, leaving him feeling glad that he had a friend with such devotion, and slightly crept out over her last statement.

Oh well, he knew he was lucky to have her as a strong ally.

Alfred's face fell when that word _lucky_ crossed his mind. Was he really that lucky? When his love was crushed and shredded and thrown away by his dearest Arthur? When he trusted him so much, but all Arthur had done was to doubt him? When he loved him so deeply, but Arthur wanted to end their relationship?

A stabbing, sharp pain radiated from where his beating organ was, and he had to suck in a quick breath to decrease the ache. Even his heart was experiencing physical symptoms. This couldn't be good. He shouldn't let himself be this affected.

_Focus, Alfred. Focus._

-USUK-

Alfred had adept defense mechanisms.

He unconsciously told himself that he was not at fault over their breakup. He unconsciously convinced himself that he was just giving what Arthur wanted _("Just leave, Alfred")_. He unconsciously coaxed himself that Arthur would come around and they would be happy together again.

Armed with all those unconscious thoughts, he proceeded to carry on with his life.

* * *

><p>Review if you like! :D<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

**TITLE:** His Dearest (Part 1, Chapter 3)

**GENRE:** Romance/Angst

**PAIRING(S):** USUK, some America + Belarus friendship (you'll see why)

**RATINGS/WARNINGS:** T; OOCness (especially America)

**SUMMARY:** Alfred, juggling with academics and internship and being the best of his batch, had remotely less time with Arthur. It went on for two months. Arthur decided to break up with him.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own APH, I am just a student nurse, and these ideas from Med School are what I gathered from the interns in the hospitals I serve. I'm sorry, I hope I did the prompt some justice!

And please forgive me for the sheer lateness of this update, I'm so busy with my last year in university! I'm sorry! orz

Thank you, once again, for the alerts, reviews, favorites! I hope I won't disappoint you! :D

***~USUK~***

* * *

><p><em>Week One, March 11<em>

Despite the increasingly fast pace and demands internship was requiring of him, Alfred Jones found himself staring intently at his phone. He kept on pressing the menu button to activate it over and over again. It was still as busy as it was before, but he couldn't help it. Arthur's candid photo, smiling, was the wallpaper.

Whenever he glanced at the wallpaper, a hollow, empty sensation radiated from his chest, making him want to rub it to get rid of that feeling. He was aware of the cause of the emptiness. He tried to change his wallpaper into the default setting, but no matter what he did, he always kept replacing the default wallpaper back to Arthur's smile. It felt like it wasn't his phone if he changed it otherwise.

Alfred had this wishful thinking that if he drilled his eyes onto Arthur's smiling wallpaper, maybe, just maybe, Arthur would come back to him. Arthur would accept his chosen career path, and they would understand each other and forgive each other and love each other and be happy together again.

The hero in him wanted nothing less of a happily ever after.

-USUK-

"It's about Arthur, isn't it?" Natalya popped the question when they were having a thirty-minute lunch break. She took a seat beside Alfred, crossed her legs, and carefully cutting a Chocolate Butterscotch cake slice. The sunny blonde choked on his drink, coughing, and she raised one slender eyebrow, clearly not impressed.

After the hacking fits subsided, Alfred turned to her, a bit red in the face (due to the choking, of course) and weakly smiled, asking, "About Arthur what?"

Natalya continued giving her Not Impressed look, and despite wanting to deny everything, Alfred knew he couldn't. He slumped over the table, and whined, "How d'ya know?"

Pale-pink lips took a bite of the dessert, chewed and swallowed slowly before answering. "Because you weren't 'spazzing' and 'squeeing' over him for a week. You were forcing your smiles it hurts to see how fake they were." She gave him a leveled gaze. He tried hiding under his arms.

"Yeah, it's about him, but I won't be saying anything more!" his whine was muffled, but Natalya understood nonetheless. She breathed an inaudible sigh, and placed her cheek on one palm, her platinum blonde hair tangling among fingers.

"I will wait until you tell me your story," she said.

Alfred didn't move, but he heard her offer, and was grateful for it, but he knew he didn't need it. Not yet anyway. He could always count on Natalya for anything at all. But the hero in him still wanted to deal with it by himself.

He could manage this.

* * *

><p><em>Week Two, March 18<em>

Alfred had noticed the slow decline of his raw scores (but still passing) in the examinations his professors were giving the class. At first, he was slightly disappointed with the first slip from his above average results two weeks ago (and pushed aside the real reason for the low result), on that Pharmacology exam he took. He thought that was only a one-time thing. He really did. He believed he could focus back to what he really wanted to do in the first place

And yet he couldn't. He found himself staring idly at windows during short breaks, looking out at the sky. He found himself watching water puddles along the road, reflecting the fluffy white clouds. He found himself reading printed texts that slowly swim together in a mixture of blacks and colors.

His performance in the clinical area had also been affected. He received more nudges from Natalya during surgery. He took more time to organize the instruments after the operation. But they weren't enough to warrant a reprimand from his clinical instructors.

Alfred didn't like what was happening to him.

-USUK-

"Your performance," Natalya began, "is horrendous." She was seated in front of Alfred in the Intern's Quarters. It was one of their golden breaks, and they were reviewing their notes for the doctors' rounds later that morning.

Alfred winced and did his best to stop a pout from forming on his face. "I don't need to hear that." He was sitting on the starchy bed, shoulders slumped, his white overcoat gracelessly tossed on the side. He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment. He opened them again, and decided to collapse on the bed, giving a long sigh.

"But seriously, Alfred, I've never seen you like this before. You've always been enthusiastic with everything you do," Natalya pointed out. She was really concerned of him, Alfred could tell. Natalya didn't go around and comment on people's lives. She mostly kept to herself. But now, she's inquiring about him. The least he could do was to give her a comforting answer.

"Nat, my coping's just trying to catch up with me. I'll be okay, really. I'll tell you when I can't handle it anymore," he gave her a winning smile, conveying the sincerity of his statement. It was true, though. If he couldn't handle it anymore, she'd be the first person to know. She was there when he received that text. She was one of the very few people who knew him inside out.

Natalya's face fell into a frown, her brows slightly furrow, and despite that, she was still the prettiest woman Alfred had ever chanced to meet. "I just want you to keep your performance the way it was before. This is your dream, right?"

He made quick eye contact with her blue-violet eyes before averting them, looking instead at the ceiling. He gave a depreciating smile, and said, "Yeah, this is my dream."

_No._

"You should remember where your priorities lie, Alfred," Natalya softly reminded him. He continued gazing at the ceiling, the off white paint lulling him to sleep.

_This is not what I want._

'Dear sweet Natalya,' Alfred mused silently, 'you're so thoughtful, I hope that Ivan sees this side of you.' He was aware that he was blatantly ignoring the core problem, thinking about Natalya like that. He was aware that he was projecting his thoughts about Natalya to what he really wanted to happen.

_Arthur._

Alfred placed his arm over his eyes, feeling the familiar throbbing pain grow steady on his chest. He moved his free hand above his heart, trying to soothe away the ache.

Natalya sighed, finding it hopeless to subtly force out information from Alfred. He was as stubborn as her beloved brother. She continued reading her notes, while saying, "Alfred, you have to read your notes soon." She then popped a caramel candy in her mouth.

Alfred groaned and turned away from her. "I'll read them in a minute," he replied.

* * *

><p><em>Week Three, March 25<em>

The golden boy received far more reprimands for his performance in two weeks than for the three years he had been in Med School. He was spacing out during operations; he was stuttering during oral participation; and fuck, he found himself answering the questions his classmates ask him far longer than he usually did.

And he hated himself more for what he was doing with his academic career. It was like he was sabotaging himself, a slow process of self-destruction he didn't knew he was capable of. The hero in him was trying to fight the dominating desire to just give up, and but it seemed like the newly created side was gradually winning.

Alfred's emotional state was greatly affected as well. He kept on seeing green eyes everywhere. He turned at every sight of choppy, sandy blonde hair that passed by him. His heart raced and clench and ache at the sound of a British accent, may it be in the hospital, in the classrooms, or even on TV. He unconsciously stared at Arthur's Facebook wall, wanting, needing to touch the man again.

It was only so much that defense mechanisms could handle.

Alfred was slowly breaking apart.

-USUK-

"Alfred F. Jones," Natalya's crisp, clear voice echoed around the hallway and Alfred's head and he turned slowly to face her. Even though her face was contorted in a scowl, and she was stomping towards him, she was still in her most beautiful state, and he couldn't help but chuckle depreciatingly about the vast difference they currently exhibit.

"What's up, Nat?" He feigned ignorance. He knew that whenever Natalya used his full name, and with that distinct tone of voice, he was royally screwed and this time, he was aware what she wanted from him.

"Don't 'What's up, Nat' me," she snapped. Alfred straightened his back, bracing himself for whatever Natalya was about to give him. She stopped in front of him and looked up to his clear blue eyes, and he could see the fire burning in her indigo irises. She grabbed his sleeve and practically dragged him to an empty classroom. Alfred, clearly the stronger between the two of them, just allowed himself to be dragged around.

Natalya pushed him inside the room and kicked the door shut and leant against it. She crossed her arms and glared hard at him. "Speak," she commanded.

Alfred sighed, and ran his fingers along his cornfield-colored locks. He unconsciously drooped his previously square shoulders and he let his face fall in front of her, which was a really rare occurrence. But Natalya was the one he trusted the most in this Med School. He might be popular, but his real friend was only Natalya.

It took a while for Alfred to open up. "Nat, I…" he faltered, and an anguished look went across his face before he continued. "I can't continue this anymore," he started. "I really need him back in my life. I can't continue this if I can't have his presence once again." His voice cracked at the end, but he didn't shed any tears, despite the stinging sensation his eyes were currently feeling.

He risked a glance to Natalya, whose face was still in a scowl, her platinum brows burrowed further in her face, and her lips in a thin line, tension clearly evident. He bowed his head, closed his eyes and wallowed in despair.

Alfred felt soft hands cup his face in a brisk manner, and he opened his eyes to stare at Natalya's, filled with emotions of compassion, concern, dissatisfaction swirling around, fighting for dominance. She was a girl full of logic and no-nonsense, bordering on apathy, but here she was, struggling to comfort him in whatever way she knew, and silently empathizing with his plight, because she of all people had experienced what it was to be in love with a person who never returned her sentiments.

She lightly tapped his cheek, and with the most beautiful smile he'd ever witnessed, "Oh, Alfred," she began, "You, of all people, should know what to do." Pinching his cheeks lightly, she dropped her hands and regained her formal disposition once again.

Before she turned around to leave him with his thoughts, she said, "I want you to improve your performance, by the way." A quick quirk of her lips and she was gone, her skirt fluttering behind her.

Alfred groped blindly for a chair to sit upon, his thoughts whirling about Natalya's vague, but much needed statement.

_Do I really know what to do?_

* * *

><p><em>Week 4, April 4<em>

Alfred still didn't know what to do. It had been more than a week since Natalya talked to him regarding his serious issue. Though he did improve his performance, even just as slight increase in his recently average scores and performance, he knew it wasn't enough. It was just to appease Natalya, 'coz he owed her that much for her concern. The lingering pain of Arthur's breakup still throbbed deep and hot within him, bubbling like magma underneath the earth.

Dreams even haunted him in his sleep. The memory of those very good times, when he was really happy, was always brought back by his subconscious through those damn dreams. He couldn't afford to sleep that much anymore. Those snippets of the life he once owned brought too much pain and regret for not doing enough to make Arthur stay. Regrets of not taking action of what he really desired _(to have Arthur again)_ never failed to come forth whenever he remembered _his dearest, his sweet, dear Arthur who once belonged to him._

They said time healed all wounds. It had been four weeks already, and yet the ache was still there, throbbing deep within his chest, and giving him the hollow sensation of something utterly lacking in that area. It was too much and it was driving him mad.

Good thing his duty was up until noon of that day, because he couldn't afford to see another surgical instrument without hurling it across the room, flipping everything, giving the fit of his life.

-USUK-

Alfred decided to sit around and watch the TV once he arrived in his room. He kicked the door shut and toed his shoes off. He unbuttoned his polo shirt and threw it down on the floor, uncaring. He tossed his bag into the couch and proceeded to where his fridge was located, opening it to check for some Coke. He cursed out loud when he saw he didn't have any stock left. He grabbed a fresh white shirt and shrugged on his brown bomber jacket, and went out.

He entered the convenience store near his flat, and browsed through the soda sections. He was about to grab the soda cans when his eyes caught the sight of the liquor on the nearby shelf. And his body went on autopilot as he picked different bottles of liquor, his mind instantly making the decision to just drink everything he bought and let everything go.

Once he was inside his flat, he immediately placed his drinks on the table and took some ice from his fridge. He began to down them, one by one, pouring all his feelings along with the smooth flow of the liquor and drinking them all up.

He didn't stop when he felt the buzz in his system. He didn't stop when his vision began to spin. He only stopped when he couldn't lift his glass anymore.

And then he began to cry.

Alfred let go all his defense mechanisms, all the heroism of keeping everything under control, all the pretensions of doing okay, of hiding from his best friend Natalya what he really was feeling, and sobbed his heart out, sliding from the chair to curl on the floor. He kept on chanting _Arthur, Arthur, come back to me I need you_, despite the definite slur in his speech. He crawled toward his couch, slipping almost all the time, but he was very persistent on reaching the couch. Once he reached the soft leather sofa, he fumbled for his phone, hands clearly shaking, either from effort or from something else entirely, and tapped on the screen to press Arthur on speed dial.

_Ring. Ring. Ring. _Arthur wouldn't pick up the phone. _Ring. Ring. Ring._ "_Hello, you have reach Arthur Kirkland's voice mailbox. Please leave your message after the beep." _And when Alfred heard his voice for the first time in four weeks, four weeks of no contact, of no communication, of _no Arthur_, his shoulders started shaking, his to wail to the phone. He was so drunk he lost all inhibition that was keeping him from totally breaking down for these past weeks. He was begging for him to come back and love him again, asking him why he left him, and saying he's sorry for what he hadn't done for Arthur and even promised to stop Med School as long as Arthur would come back to him.

He dropped his phone and pulled his hair out, the sheer agony of _missing Arthur_ and _wanting him back in his life_ rendering him a useless, sobbing mess. He cried himself to sleep.

-USUK-

Alfred woke up with a very painful headache and a stiff, aching shoulder. His mouth tasted like shit, and he felt his eyes puffy and swollen and they seemed so against in opening properly. He rolled over and lied on his back, trying to recall what really happened the last night.

He remembered drinking himself silly. He vaguely remembered being drunk. He remembered the crying. He vaguely remembered crawling to the sofa. He remembered call – _OH SHIT!_

_Fuck, oh fuck no, _Alfred thought frantically, groping around for his phone. When he found it, he blearily checked for his call list and _fuck indeed_ Arthur's name was reflected on the screen. His heart thundered against his chest, drumming so hard and so fast, his pulse increasing and _shit_ what will he do now? Could he still face the present, the future, now that he had placed himself in such an embarrassing situation, so desperate and pathetic?

Alfred groaned and his phone thunked against his chest, and he lifelessly dropped his arms to his sides, lamenting his situation, regretting his decision to drink yesterday, and _Oh God why_ did he lose control of himself, and allowing himself to call him, to call his _dearest Arthur_ and showing his pathetic, miserable side.

He must correct his mistake.

He recalled what Natalya had told him a while back. _You, of all people, know what to do._

He glanced once again at his phone, his heart aching at the memory of Arthur's voice, and he felt himself shiver in need and longing, wanting, _needing_ to hear Arthur again. For real this time.

The golden boy finally made the decision that could either make or break him, for always.

-USUK-

Alfred waited for his hangover to dull, and he showered, pulled over his head Arthur's favorite shirt and wore Arthur's favorite scent on him. He thanked the heavens for his day off, a rare thing these days. He patted his pocket, feeling dread and anticipation swirl inside him when he felt the familiar weight of his dearest's key inside, and went to face the crossroad of his future, of his heart.

He stood for ten minutes outside Arthur's flat, debating whether to knock or to just open the door. His heart wasn't comforting him, as it banged against his ribcage in such a forceful manner it was physically hurting him. He raised his fist to knock on the wooden door, but faltered. A frown etched on his face and he decided to just get over with it.

No one answered the door.

He inserted the key and turned the door open. He had finally decided to wait for Arthur inside his house, come what may.

Alfred F. Jones hoped against hope that Arthur would still want him back in his life.

* * *

><p><strong>Review if you like! Sorry for the very late update, really I am! ;o; orz<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**TITLE:** His Dearest (Part 2, Chapter 4)  
><strong>GENRE:<strong> Romance/Angst  
><strong>PAIRING(S):<strong> USUK, some America + Belarus friendship (you'll see why)  
><strong>RATINGSWARNINGS:** T; OOCness (especially America)  
><strong>SUMMARY:<strong> Alfred, juggling with academics and internship and being the best of his batch, had remotely less time with Arthur. It went on for two months. Arthur decided to break up with him.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own APH, I am just a student nurse, and these ideas from Med School are what I gathered from the interns in the hospitals I serve. I'm sorry, I hope I did the prompt some justice!

**A/N**: I'm sorry for the lateness. I can't express how OTL I feel right now.

Thank you, once again, for the alerts, reviews, favorites, PMs! I hope I won't disappoint you! :D

* * *

><p>Alfred was getting anxious. He had been sitting in Arthur's well-worn couch for thirty minutes already. He couldn't decide if he wanted to face Arthur now or to prolong their inevitable meeting. He had been sitting still during the first five minutes he had entered Arthur's room. But then the jitters had started to show, and he had been wringing his hands together, wiping the sweaty palms against his pants, and he had been pacing for twenty minutes already. He decided to just sit and take deep breaths to calm himself. He needed to be calm when he faced Arthur. He needed to be rational and he must not lose his composure. How could Arthur want him back when he became a crying mess? Certainly Arthur wouldn't like to have a boyfriend who cried too much.<p>

Despite the cool environment outside, Alfred found himself sweating. He was wiping his face with his white handkerchief, which had been soaked already. He kept on running his hands on his hair, which made it messier, and the stubborn lump of hair he tried so hard to tame was back, standing proudly.

Alfred wouldn't look around Arthur's apartment. He didn't want to see any trace of evidence that Arthur was over him. He didn't want to see his pictures missing from the photo albums and frames Arthur proudly displayed in his hall. He didn't want to see the rejection reflected in Arthur's home. So he just zeroed in a particular pattern in the floor of Arthur's living room.

He was still hoping that Arthur would want him back.

Although Alfred wanted to remain calm when he faced Arthur, his heartbeat just didn't want him to. It kept on racing, going lub-dub on him that he could actually see his chest jerking minutely with each beat. His hands that he had just wiped the sweat off were shaking slightly, from the excitement of seeing Arthur again after four weeks, and from the anticipation of either the second best day of his life or the worst heartbreak yet.

Alfred took in a deep breath.

When he heard the floor outside creak and muffled footsteps coming near the door, he felt his heart work overtime.

When he heard the doorknob twist open, he looked up; and seeing Arthur Kirkland step inside his home, still as beautiful as he remembered, his eyes still as green as emeralds, Alfred F. Jones knew his heart ceased beating entirely.

His life, his happiness, was up to this meeting. His everything was up to Arthur Kirkland.

It seemed that Arthur didn't notice Alfred sitting in the couch yet. Alfred noticed that his movements were sluggish, his shoulders sagged, and as Arthur leant against the main door, Alfred had seen the crestfallen expression on his dearest Arthur's face. He couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to hold Arthur against his chest, he wanted to make Arthur smile, he wanted to say that everything would be all right. But then maybe Arthur was over him. Maybe Arthur didn't want him anymore.

Yet he couldn't just accept that without a fight.

* * *

><p>Alfred found himself staring at the smaller man's frame, relishing the fact that what he was seeing now was the real Arthur, not just the pictures stored in his phone, not just the minimal photos Arthur had on his Facebook. What he was seeing was Arthur in flesh, and he felt his cheeks warm and the excitement run in his blood with the familiarity of seeing Arthur again.<p>

Oh, how he wanted Arthur. So much that he desired to wrap his arms around him, to feel his warmth again, to inhale his scent that distinctly belonged to Arthur, his dearest, _his everything._

But there was still the pain that lingered in his heart. The _why_ of their parting. He didn't understand why Arthur wanted him away, when they loved each other so much. He couldn't comprehend Arthur's decision to separate, when they could have talked about it.

But then, Alfred thought despairingly, he was the one who was too afraid to face Arthur. He was the one who didn't want to be rejected. He was the one who just accepted what Arthur said to him (_just leave, Alfred)_ without having to know what really happened between them or to explain his side.

Now, though, he was there, in Arthur's flat, ready to face his dearest, to ask for his love to come back to his life.

Alfred noticed Arthur raise his head and their eyes met. The blue-eyed man saw the changes of the shorter man's expression – a surprised expression that wasn't there before settled on his face, his green eyes widened and it seemed that they were red and puffy. His posture also changed from dejected to rigid and alert.

Alfred slowly rose from his seat on the couch, and with deliberate caution, walked towards Arthur, whose stance had now become defensive. They both stared at each other, blue clashing with green, and the only sounds heard in the silence of the room were their breathing.

Arthur was the first to break away from the stare. He looked down on the floor, staring intently at the tiled patterns. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice raspy and breaking at the end of the question.

Alfred was surprised to hear Arthur's voice. It wasn't like the voice on Arthur's voicemail. This time, it was real. Arthur's voice. He hadn't heard it for four weeks, and now he was listening to that accented voice he loved so much… He was momentarily overwhelmed with his feelings, the longing that it evoked within him, that he hadn't answer Arthur's question fast enough.

"Leave, Alfred," Arthur's defeated voice floated into Alfred's ears and he knew he couldn't stop the shocked expression that crossed his face. How? How could Arthur say that… after all this time? How could he say such a hurtful thing, asking him to leave, again? Had Arthur really moved on? Had Arthur really got over him?

"W-wait, Arthur!" Alfred was aware how pathetic he sounded, his voice pitiful, but he couldn't care any less, when his heart and _his life_ were on the line.

Arthur's facial features were suppressing the fleeting hurt that crossed in his face. But he just insisted on what he stated earlier, "No, Alfred. Leave, please."

The sudden feeling of sheer desperation course through Alfred's veins, and the fear of losing Arthur for real was something he was not ready to face, not at that moment, not ever.

Alfred grabbed Arthur's shoulders, wanting to shake him out of the resistance that stubbornly clung to the shorter man. For a passing moment, he took pleasure on the fact that he was touching Arthur again, that he was feeling Arthur – the flesh on his shoulders; underneath his palms were the real thing, not just the memories that he kept on visiting for the last month – those miserable days of being in a state of both pain and numbness.

Yet he really couldn't hurt Arthur. He couldn't even afford to shake him. All Alfred could do was to grasp Arthur's shoulders and bow his head in utter heartbreak. It was so hard to look into Arthur's very green eyes – the green eyes that haunted him in his sleep, the very green eyes that he kept on seeing everywhere, that particular shade that he longed to glimpse.

He knew Arthur wasn't looking at his miserable form. His head was turned to another direction, to a wall decorated with his own cross-stitches along with those framed photographs.

Alfred looked up to Arthur, his expressive blue eyes begging, pleading with Arthur to consider them again. His pride was no longer in the equation. He didn't care how low he would stoop in asking for Arthur to become his boyfriend again. His heart could not ache more than it already had.

"Arthur, I… I still don't understand why you want me out of your life," Alfred's voice broke, and he sucked a breath when he said those words. It felt so real now, to have that line spoke out loud. He searched for something in Arthur's green eyes, wanting to see some hope for the two of them. Arthur's eyes still were impassive. Alfred felt his own courage dwindle, but he carried on.

"I love you, Arthur. And you love me," Alfred saw something flicker in those eyes, and he went on. "I can't focus without you here with me. I want you back, Arthur. Artie. I want you back in my life…" Everything he said here was true. He had seen how he had dealt that one month with the knowledge that Arthur's no longer his. And everything hurt. His studies, his clinical performance, his heart…

Everything hurt.

"… If you allow me."

Even though Alfred wanted Arthur back, he still couldn't do it unless Arthur allowed him. Alfred's _everything_ was at stake here. All that Alfred valued was in Arthur's hands. It was all up to him. Arthur had the final say in this.

Alfred ran his hands down to Arthur's upper arm and squeezed them, wanting to say _It's all up to you_ to Arthur. He then pulled Arthur onto his chest, feeling the slighter form of his… _ex-boyfriend? Boyfriend?_ in his arms. He unconsciously sighed, savoring the tiny comfort of Arthur in his embrace had brought. But then he sobered up immediately, recalled that this touch he was experiencing was temporary, and if he didn't do this _begging_ right, it would be the last chance he could ever have Arthur again.

Alfred nudged the glasses towards his forehead as he pressed his eyes onto Arthur's shoulder, wanting to stop the tears from leaking. He didn't want to imagine the days ahead of him without Arthur. He had tried to deny it. He had tried to move on. He had tried to do well in school. But he couldn't. Not without talking to Arthur. Not without Arthur's explanation. Not without giving up his pride and pleading for Arthur to come back to him.

He had already experienced what it was without Arthur in his life. And it was horrible. He was like a living dead. The hollow feeling in his chest was too much to bear that he couldn't even function properly. He was breaking, and the only one who could stop the further shattering of his being was his green-eyed, ill-tempered, adorable, _dearest_ Arthur.

While he was trying – and failing – to suppress the tears falling from his eyes, he didn't notice that Arthur's eyes were slowly watering; the deadpan expression they held were melting into swirls of intense grief and anguish. Alfred didn't see the conflict in Arthur's face. He just clung onto Arthur, holding him tight; locking the feeling of Arthur in his arms to memory, if he ended this meeting empty-handed.

Alfred failed to see Arthur's arms rising from his sides. But they didn't return Alfred's embrace. It seemed that Arthur was hesitant; he was indecisive on where to place his arms. Instead of hugging Alfred back, he grasped Alfred's upper arms and eased them away from his person.

Sky blue eyes widened as he felt Arthur gently push him away. Alfred snapped his head to look into Arthur and he saw deep sadness etched on his face. He felt his heart breaking once again. He felt the feared rejection creep into his veins and settled nicely into his heart; the weight of the implication of Arthur's silence was making his head spin. He searched into Arthur's eyes, silently begging, inwardly dreading the outcome of this visit – of Arthur's words, of the inevitable heartbreak he would experience once he gave Arthur up.

Was it worth it to fight for Arthur when Arthur himself didn't want to? Was all this begging for Arthur to come back to him for nothing? Was he just forcing himself on Arthur? Wouldn't it be better if he gave up?

He felt his hands go slack with the sudden realization. He should be considerate of Arthur's needs. Arthur didn't want him anymore. He clearly said it. Maybe he should just give up.

"Alfred, I think what we need is space –"

He was really considering on giving up when he heard Arthur say _that_; it made him turn his train of thought into a complete opposite direction, and something in his miserable state of mind snapped.

"NO!" he exclaimed, his heart rate increasing with the new information he just heard. A mantra of _no, no, no, Arthur, no, it can't be, no more _looped in his head. Alfred was gripped by a new kind of desperation he hadn't felt before.

"No, no, no, Arthur!" Arthur asking for space was like a door being closed to him forever, a door that was locked, barricaded – absolutely inaccessible. And he couldn't accept that. His heart wouldn't allow him.

"Not space, we don't need space anymore, Arthur! We have space for one month already!" he didn't know what he was saying anymore. He himself was shocked by the heartbreak Arthur's seemingly final words brought him.

"Arthur, Artie – please don't do this, don't break my heart, please listen to me!" It was a new level of begging for Alfred. He hadn't said _please_ in this whole madness yet and here he was, kicking and smashing his almost non-existent pride to have Arthur to listen to him.

Alfred, at that precise moment, had a very life-altering realization. And with that realization, he hoped against hope that he could finally convince Arthur his sincerity to fix whatever mistakes he did.

"I can no longer go on without you!" he almost screamed at Arthur, fresh tears present on his blue eyes. Everything hurt. The truth of his epiphany, of the impending loss, of the 'what ifs' and 'should haves'.

"I managed to perform well in Med School because I knew – with all my heart – that you were here beside me!" he exclaimed, his throat becoming painful with the emotions he was feeling. He swallowed, preparing to exert more of his voice. "I managed to keep going to school and to duty despite the limited sleep and ridiculous exams because I knew you were mine and that you loved me and that you understood!" His face was a mess, snot and tears mixing, but he didn't care. The only one he cared for was the person in front of him – the stubborn, unrelenting, lovable Arthur Kirkland who he still loved, despite all the pain he felt.

"I can cut off my study time and visit you more. We can have all the dates you want," he added, looking at Arthur's pained facial features, not knowing if what he was seeing was something he could base his optimism for or something that could douse whatever flame of hope had flickered within him.

Arthur was still silent. Alfred finally sobbed. His cries echoed in the silence of Arthur's house. No longer could he take the hopelessness of this reconciliation. Or whatever it should have been. He gasped out, "I will quit Med School for you Arthur… Please make my heart whole again."

He reached out for Arthur and wept on his shoulders. Arthur, despite being his greatest heartache, brought him a certain kind of comfort that no one else could provide. The shorter blonde, still speechless, had just allowed him. But the tears that were pooling in the corner of Arthur's eyes finally started to fall.

Alfred felt arms wrap around him, clutching the back of his jacket with fisted hands. A mixture of despair and bliss washed over him, and a small part of him was honestly happy that Arthur hugged him back. The positive side of him was pulsating with happiness, while the negative side of him was chiding on his childish efforts, that Arthur was just doing this because he _pitied _him.

That snapped him back to his wretched reality.

Alfred mumbled broken words of _I'm sorry, Forgive me, I won't hurt you again, I'm sorry Artie_ over and over again while pressing his very wet eyes against Arthur's equally wet shoulder. He was aware that his voice was dripping with pure misery and anguish, but he didn't care one bit about it. He clung onto Arthur like a little child would to his favorite stuffed toy – wanting, needing the comfort that his metaphorical stuffed toy could give.

He was leaning onto Arthur too much that Arthur could no longer support both of them. Arthur's knees gave out and they sank ungracefully on the floor, still holding onto each other.

Arthur was cradling Alfred's head to his chest, petting his hair, wiping the tears with his left thumb while his own face was blotched with his own flushed cheeks and tear stains. Alfred heard Arthur whisper _I'm sorry_ repeatedly, and he squeezed Arthur tighter, closer to him, his heart still undecided whether to soar in love and happiness or to fall and shatter into irretrievable pieces.

They held each other, seeking the serenity that only the two of them could provide to each other.

When they had relatively calmed down, they awkwardly parted from the other's person. Alfred stared at the floor, his vision getting out of focus, his mind spinning in unwanted thoughts as he waited for Arthur to say something. Anything at all.

Arthur was looking at the other side of the room, Alfred could tell. He had this particular habit of looking at walls when the atmosphere was getting tense, or when he had nothing to say – which made Alfred's heart quiver in both anticipation and dread for whatever words that would spill from Arthur's tongue.

Everything was up to _his dearest._

A minute had passed before Arthur slowly, gently cupped Alfred's cheeks in his hands, tilting his head up. He stared into the emerald green eyes that he loved so much, and he saw something in those pools that made the dying ember of hope within him glimmer. But he didn't want to hope anymore.

His chest tightened.

Arthur began to open his mouth.

This was it.

Alfred wanted to close his eyes to brace himself.

But he couldn't.

"Alfred, I – "

Alfred could hear more than see Arthur taking a deep breath. Was this how anticipatory grieving done? What Arthur would say could be likened to a doctor giving his patient the diagnosis for a terminal illness. It might be good or bad news. Oh, the irony of his comparison. Alfred couldn't even dare to hope anymore.

" – I love you."

And Alfred's senses zeroed into those three words uttered by Arthur, going in a loop in his head, and he wouldn't believe any of it. It might be just a figment of his hyperactive imagination. He could be that desperate to trick himself into hearing those three words he wanted the most from the person kneeling in front of him, cupping his face and… crying?

Arthur was crying. After they had calmed down, Alfred was expecting that Arthur wouldn't shed tears anymore. But he was. Weeping.

"I forgive you, and I'm also sorry, so sorry for what I've done to you, for not trusting you, for not being understanding – " Alfred tried to cut him off with an "Art –" but Arthur continued without missing a beat, his eyes staring straight into Alfred's cerulean irises.

"I want to start again," one of his hands went down to reach for Alfred's larger hand, feeling the palm with his fingertips, and sliding them to clasp onto Alfred's hand. He squeezed it. Alfred's eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat.

"No, I want to continue where we've left. Because I really regret… what I've done." After his declaration, Arthur became embarrassed and looked away.

Seeing that simple, familiar reaction made Alfred's heart swell with hope and happiness, and he was getting very emotional again (for an entirely different reason) that he tugged Arthur's hand towards him and gave Arthur a very big bear hug. He peppered Arthur's face with light kisses, saying, "It's alright, babe – Artie, thank you so much for giving me another chance to show you how much I love you."

He then sought Arthur's plumped lips, missing the feel of the softness against his own sensitive lips, rubbing them together and nipping on the lower lip. Alfred was generally enjoying Arthur, his taste, his presence, the feel of his body against his own, his warmth, the notion that they were together again (hopefully for a very long time), the reality that _his dearest_ was back on his life – his life was finally perfect.

Alfred was so lost in the ecstatic feeling that he didn't hear Arthur speak. Only when Arthur pushed his chest away he realized he was speaking to him. He cocked his head to one side in a gesture to go on.

The shorter man blushed, his face getting pink making his swollen lips more attractive. Alfred mentally drooled. He couldn't deny that he was happy. That he made the right decision to talk to Arthur.

Arthur cleared his throat, "Ah, Alfred… I also have another thing to say…" Alfred gave him a curious look and Arthur's face became redder. How cute!

"T-there's nothing g-going on between you and Natalya, right?" he stammered, his embarrassment evidently increasing. Alfred just stared at him for a few moments, incomprehensive. He somehow couldn't understand why Arthur asked that question.

"I know it was a foolish thing to ask!" he exclaimed, ducking his head in shame and covering his face. That brought Alfred back from his musings. He reached over and pried Arthur's hands off his face and bringing them near to him. One by one, he kissed each finger pad and replied, "No, there's nothing going on between us."

He set the first hand lower and gave it a soft squeeze. He moved to the other hand, still maintaining eye contact with Arthur, and continued his kissing trek.

"You're the only one I want. I need. I love," Alfred sealed his statement with a kiss on Arthur's lips.

He touched Arthur's cheek with his hand and ran his thumb over the bony prominence, feeling the soft flesh underneath his finger pad. He gazed into Arthur and finally said, "Allow me to make up for you."

Arthur finally gave that happy smile of his, a small twitch of the edge of his lips which gave him a soft look, his eyes still slightly wet, and leaned into Alfred's kiss.

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><p>They were found later cuddling in bed, Alfred kissing the shorter man's neck as he ran his fingers on the inside of Arthur's shirt.<p>

Alfred really missed doing these sweet, intimate touches to Arthur. He vowed he would make up for what he had lacked before.

"I'm glad I didn't ask for that key when we last saw each other," he heard Arthur sigh. He looked up and saw the happy expression on his lover's face. He grinned at his statement.

"Me too, Artie," he kissed on the collar bone in front of him. Arthur breathed an exhale.

Arthur then pushed Alfred away gently, and fixed his shirt that the taller man had crumpled. He sat up, which Alfred followed suit. Arthur then looked at him and said, "Alfred, you don't have to quit Med School. It has always been your dream to become a doctor."

Alfred couldn't suppress the sadness that crossed his face as he replied, "But you're more important, Arthur."

"This decision of quitting school won't make both of us happy, Alfred. I couldn't afford to make you more miserable than I have already caused," at this, Arthur looked away. Alfred knew that expression that betrayed his guilt. And he couldn't stand to see Arthur make such a face.

"If you want, Arthur, I will still continue going to Med School," he whispered to Arthur, kissing him on the cheek.

Arthur nodded meekly and said, "It's not just because I want it, Alfred, but because you want it also. Remember that it has always been your dream. I want you to be happy with what you do, not just with me, all right?" He then shuffled nearer to Alfred and timidly hugged him.

Alfred almost melted at the affection his dear Arthur was showering him. "Okay, I promise."

He was so happy. Gratitude was bubbling all over him. Everything was just perfect.

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><p>Natalya saw Alfred F. Jones on school the following day. She noticed that he was bringing a small box with a ribbon laced around it. He was walking towards her.<p>

She gave a wry smile as he sheepishly handed over the pink box, an act of gratitude, which she accepted without complaint. She knew what the content of the box was, anyway.

"I take it that you're very happy right now," she said to him. She saw the pink cheeks and slightly red-rimmed eyes behind the lenses. A lot of crying had happened, she thought.

"Yeah…" he replied lamely, which she could understand, given that he might have experienced one of the worst and greatest days of his life yesterday. And considering the refrigerated box on her hands, she could deduce that yesterday was a success on his part.

Natalya gave Alfred her rare smile. She was indeed happy for him. That, and he could finally focus on doing better in the clinical area because she couldn't have her teammate blunder any more in both study and duty.

She looked at Alfred's radiant face, which obviously spelled 'gotten laid'. And down to the box that clearly held Chocolate Caramel cake, her most favorite dessert.

Natalya smiled again. Yes, all was well indeed.

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><p><strong>WOW! I can't believe it's over... Guuuhhh! I think this is the end for His Dearest. Though I have plans to give a little bit of enlightenment on why Arthur is insecure of Natalya.<strong>

**But still! Thank you so much for all the reviews, follows, favorites, PMs! They all make me happy!**

**To be honest, though, this chapter is so hard to write. The amount of angst is just... too much! It really makes me sad! I really thank briaranise for pushing me to finish this!**

**Thank you, once again for your patience.**

**Review if you like!  
><strong>


	5. His Dearest: Prequel

**His Dearest:** Side Story

**Summary:** Arthur is feeling insecure of himself and of his relationship with Alfred.

**Warnings:** Insecure!Arthur

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia. QnQ

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews, favorites and alerts! O/u/O They really make me happy! I hope you'll like this short update!

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><p>Sometime during December, a few days after their Christmas dinner, Alfred crashed into Arthur's apartment, intending to spend some time with his boyfriend and to show him something awesome.<p>

It was eleven in the morning, and he knew his green-eyed dearest would be finished with most of his morning chores. He smiled fondly at the thought of Arthur cleaning the house and dusting his books with meticulous care, and then giving himself a wonderful reward with a cup of hot Earl Grey Tea and a novel in his hands. He would then get lost in the story weaved by those words printed in the book, and he wouldn't notice the time pass by. He would then get flustered and hurriedly make lunch for himself. And burn the food. Arthur would then struggle to let the smoke out. And eat the remains of his burned lunch.

Alfred chuckled at the thought. Just imagining Arthur during his day-off was already giving him joy. He took the spare key that Arthur had given him and inserted it to the key hole. The sound of the knob unlocking was such a beautiful melody in his ears. The romantic side of him thought that it was a metaphor of their relationship: Readily open and honest to each other.

He was so in love with Arthur he couldn't imagine living without his love.

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><p>Arthur was struggling with unlatching the window of his kitchen. It was jammed again. The smoke coming from his oven was getting thicker, and his eyes were starting to sting. Damn stupid window, why wouldn't it bloody open!<p>

He was jiggling the latch, his frustration getting into him when he felt a warm body pressed against his back and a longer arm reached over and easily unlatched his window. His heart skipped a beat, knowing who the person was. He smiled widely before putting a frown on his face and turning to berate his boyfriend about propriety and alerting the owner of the flat before barging in.

The smoke diffused, clearing the kitchen and exposing Arthur's latest culinary mishap, a batch of badly burnt scones. The two of them fell silent as they stared at the blackened pastries. Arthur was feeling embarrassed. He knew he always burned whatever he baked, but he still persisted.

He looked shyly at Alfred's expression, noticing the slight grimace, the twitching of his nose before he heard him say, "Awww, come on, let's eat these things you've made!" Despite the invitation, he heard the forced cheer on Alfred's voice, and he couldn't help but feel down about himself and his abilities. He knew that Alfred came over whenever he had days off. Why didn't he just prepare something that Alfred would like?

Arthur turned around to hide his face from Alfred. He took a can of Coke (exclusively for Alfred) from his fridge, and forced himself to act like nothing happened. When he got to the table, Alfred was already shoving the scones down his throat so fast it was like he didn't really want to taste them at all. Arthur's chest ached.

He put down the can of Coke in front of Alfred. His blue-eyed partner gave him a salute of gratitude before he popped open the lid and chugged down half of the can's contents. Arthur sat in front of Alfred, looking at him eat his scones. He was still wondering why he was blessed with such a marvelous person.

Alfred was perfect. He had the good looks, the personality that could charm half the female population – both young and old, he had the brains that could definitely bring him everywhere he wanted. Yet he was here, stuck with plain Arthur Kirkland. He sometimes wondered what Alfred saw in him. It was difficult to believe at first that Alfred truly loved him when the young man courted him.

The lad, who was boisterous and borderline obnoxious when he was with his friends and peers, was so shy when he told Arthur he loved him. The ache in his chest throbbed. He thought of Alfred and his previous lovers. He said that Arthur was the first man he had ever loved, and he was willing to share his life with him. It was really sweet of him, Arthur mused. But how long would that sweetness last?

Alfred had been very kind to him. He'd been patient, he'd been sweet, he'd been kind. He'd taken Arthur to places he knew his green-eyed boyfriend would really like. They had cuddled in the couch numerous times because Arthur secretly wanted to feel Alfred's warmth, an assurance that everything he was experiencing was real.

But oftentimes the Englishman thought that he was holding Alfred back.

His American boyfriend deserved someone better than him. A woman, ideally. It would fit the image of Alfred – the Golden Boy and his stunningly beautiful lady beside him. Not an Arthur Kirkland. He sometimes thought of Alfred's partner in Med School, that beautiful snow queen – Natalya Arlovskaya. She was a goddess in beauty. Standing tall and proud, she was an unconquerable lady of beauty and grace. She had that poise that was not easily imitated. She was intelligent enough to be at par with Alfred in the battle of mind and wits and techniques.

They would look so good together, he thought sadly as he stared at his boyfriend eating the last of his scones.

A self-depreciating smile unconsciously crawled on his face. He didn't know though that Alfred saw his expression.

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><p>Alfred stood up and went to Arthur, pulling the shorter blonde from his chair and into his arms. He didn't want Arthur to wear that kind of face. It stung. He held the man for a while, saying, "I miss you, Artie." He knew what he said was true. He truly missed Arthur even though they'd just seen each other a few days ago. He wanted to make this Christmas break special and memorable. He might not have enough time to spend with Arthur for the next months due to his hectic schedule, and he really wanted to make the most out of this opportunity he had.<p>

He guided his beloved to his couch and both of them sat unto the soft plush seat. He really wanted to see Arthur smile a bit more. "Hey Artie," he began, bringing the Englishman closer to his side.

Green-eyes looked at him and replied with a hum. Alfred's breath was almost knocked over by the shade of green he loved the most.

"Let's watch a movie," he said, pressing his face against Arthur's neck, inhaling his favorite scent. He loved Arthur so much. It shouldn't be questioned anymore. He loved Arthur and he was willing to do whatever he wanted.

"What kind of film, Alfred?" Arthur leaned into him, shuffling a bit to find a comfortable position. He ran his hands to the American's side, holding it. He pressed his cheek against the breathing chest, and despite his earlier thoughts, he felt really secure when he was like this with Alfred.

Alfred relaxed, his arm holding Arthur closer as he fiddled with his bag and took out a compact disc. "It's a recorded video of one of our operations. Remember when I've told you I was one of the two students who were chosen to assist a recorded operation? For educational purposes?" He beamed, clearly excited to share his achievement. "Let me insert the CD for a moment," he said, pulling away from his boyfriend to set up the TV and the DVD player.

Once the CD was playing, Alfred settled back to the couch and into Arthur's warm body. The lovers cuddled with each other as the screen showed a video of the Operating Room. Arthur thought that it was cold and foreboding. The machineries were quite scary to look at. And they were all so silent. He became anxious watching the video.

Alfred pointed to a tall man wearing a disposable sterile gown standing beside the patient. "That's me," he said. He then pointed to a silver haired woman standing behind him on the screen, wearing her scrub suit. "That's Natalya. We're partners for this video. We're the only two who qualifies to join this educational video." He then continued to explain who the members of the team were, naming the machines and telling Arthur what the operation was about.

Arthur's attention though was zeroed to the silver-blonde lady. They were partners, his mind repeated Alfred's words. _Partners._ Something throbbed painfully on his chest. His thoughts flickered back to his earlier musings, and his interest for the video was slowly dwindling. He knew they were just clinical partners. But the possibility of them becoming _more_ was just as strong.

He hated himself for doubting Alfred and his love, but it was just too good to be true. To be loved by someone like Alfred.

A familiar voice rang from the speakers of the telly, and Arthur focused his attention back to the screen. Alfred was whining to the main surgeon that he was hungry. The surgeon laughed and said, "Dear boy, you should have eaten your breakfast! We can't have you fainting here now, can we? Who has a candy ball here?"

Silence rang around the room before someone broke it. "I have here," Natalya answered stoically.

Alfred turned to look at her and putting on his puppy-dog face, said, "Oh Nat, pleaaase? It will really help me here!" He gave a big, begging smile, batting his lashes.

Arthur watched as the pixelized version of Natalya rolled her eyes, sighed, and stepped closer to Alfred, careful not to disrupt the sterile environment, tear the candy wrapper off and hissed to him, "Your stomach will be the end of your perfect clinical record."

The Alfred on the screen just laughed as he craned his neck backwards, allowing the silver-haired blonde to peel the lower half of his mask as her long, slender, feminine fingers pushed the caramel candy into his eager mouth. Arthur saw Alfred's lips kissing the tips of Natalya's fingers, and his grip on the throw pillow tightened as he fought the stinging in his eyes.

The green-eyed man didn't make a sound as he sank deeper into the couch, his boyfriend very near to him but at the same time, so far away. His eyes were staring on the screen but not taking in anything else. His mind was playing the intimate gesture on loop – Alfred kissing Natalya's fingertips, Natalya's exasperated but affectionate smile, Alfred's laugh and the wink of thanks after eating the candy – it was too much. His chest felt heavy as his mind recalled the past conversations he had with Alfred. His tall boyfriend was always talking about Natalya with such genuine affection it hurt to remember them. How Alfred and Natalya were always together in school. How they study together after classes. That if he wasn't Alfred's boyfriend, he would think that there was something really going on between the two.

The video had shown his the kind of intimacy his boyfriend and his female friend shared whenever Arthur was not around.

He clutched the throw pillow closer to his chest, wanting to hide his face, wanting to run away from Alfred's warmth. He wasn't sure anymore. Did Alfred really love him? Was Alfred regretting going into a relationship with him? Did Alfred want someone else? Did Alfred want a woman whom he could shower his affection without getting any looks from the public? Was Alfred just putting up an act of loving him at all? Did Alfred pity him? Was this just insecurity or all these thoughts he kept on having had basis?

His heart was at his feet and he had no more will to take it back.

Arthur continued to press the pillow to his face as Alfred sat beside him, unknowing of the doubts and insecurities his boyfriend was going through.

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><p><strong>Okay, so here's the side story I promised! Thank you so much for the reviews, alerts, favorites!<br>****This is the only chapter where we can see Arthur's POV, and it's really morbid, hee! XD  
><strong>**I hope you'll enjoy this short update, and this is the final chapter of His Dearest! Thank you so much!**

**I've forgotten to tell you guys that the scene between Natalya and Alfred has soooo totally happened in RL! It is during one of duty as an Operating Room nurse, and this classmate of mine (a guy) started swaying, and he's the suture nurse (the one that gives the instrument to the surgeon) and the team is alarmed, so the asked if anyone has candy. A nurse from the OR says that he has, so he volunteered to feed my classmate. IT IS SO SENSUAL TO LOOK AT! Also, he's a guy.**

**IMAGINE ALL MY FEELS AND THE INNER SPAZZING HAPPENING TO MEEEEEE. I can't concentrate anymore lol orz. I've been spacing in and out, looping the image in my head! **

**Review if you like! QuQ**


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